


Why The Avengers Hate Cafepress

by Go_Fic_Yourself



Series: Clint Centric ALL CAPS THOR VERSE [2]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, clint is a little shit, friendship fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 04:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4208745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Go_Fic_Yourself/pseuds/Go_Fic_Yourself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four people Clint Barton annoyed with unlicensed avengers merchandise  and two times it didn't work out like he planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

1\. Tony

The arc reactor battery powered tap lights that they found throughout the vents, in closets and cupboards had been bad enough, but this was going too far. 

Clint had just wandered into the kitchen half asleep and wearing nothing but a pair of iron man boxers and a disturbing number of band aids. They had an arc reactor on the crotch.

Tony nearly did choked on his coffee when Clint faced the counter to pour himself a cup (most of it ending up on said counter with a mumble of "aw. Coffee, no."). Across his (irritatingly perfect) ass in blocky yellow letters was "IRON ASS."

Tony still hadn't recovered enough to talk by the time that Clint stumbled back out of the room. He did however make sure that the boxers were conveniently lost the next time Clint did laundry.


	2. Natasha

2\. Natasha

Clint was damn lucky that Natasha liked him (which was still something that most of the avengers struggled to wrap their heads around). No one else would have been allowed to live after this. 

Clint had offered to cook that night and when everyone walked into the kitchen for the meal, they found themselves blocked by Natasha standing stock still just inside the doorway. Clint, who had been moving around and putting the finishing touch on things, finally noticed the crowd and turned towards them. The rest went as deadly still as Natasha, though they were more deer-in-the-headlights and she was cobra-waiting-to-strike. Tony sidled around her, careful not to touch, and he found one of her eyes twitching minutely. 

Clint was wearing an apron that was clearly meant to look like The Black Widow's body from neck to knees.

"Hey guys. Why are you all standing there?"  
No one answered, nor did they look away from the comical cleavage Clint wore across his chest.

"Oh, like the apron? I for one think this makes your boobs look fake, which what the hell,right? I've seen them. Those are as real as they get."

Natasha took a deep steading breath before taking her seat at the table without comment. The rest of the team followed suit, but none were surprised to find the apron a charred and smoking mess in a large pot on the stove the next morning. 

(Aw. Apron, no...")


	3. Bruce

3\. Bruce

Steve and Natasha sat on opposite couches in the common area. He was drawing and she was reading while pretending she didn't know he was drawing her. 

Bruce walked in, rubbing at one shoulder (the Hulk might be invincible, but Bruce Banner started to ache after too long hunched over data in the lab). He was planning on getting a cup of tea and maybe doing some yoga before going back to work.   
He acknowledged Steve and Natasha on his way by, and walked into the kitchen.

There was a familiar sound and the Hulk stalked out. 

Steve and Natasha looked at him, started and incredulous. 

Hulk looked sternly at them. "Hulk do yoga. Not smash Little Bird."

They nodded dumbly as he walked away, but as soon as he was gone they both made for the kitchen. 

Clint turned to face them when he heard them enter. He was wearing a green tank top that had the details of abs and nipples drawn on it, and tiny shorts that were purple and looked like they were torn at the bottom. 

"Do you guys have any clue what's up with Bruce? He just walked in, hulked out and left without saying a word." 

Steve had to put his face in his hands while Natasha just shook her head while walking out of the room. No one could say for sure what happened to the set, but small soft ball of green and purple handmade fabric yarn appeared in Bruce's knitting basket not long after.


	4. Steve

4\. Steve

Cap walked into the gym, ready to go a few rounds with a punching bag, or one round with a few punching bags, when he saw something coming at his head from the corner of his eye. Too late though, it hit him in the side of the face and bounced, skidding along the ground for a few feet. 

It...it was his shield, but plastic and a little smaller than a dinner plate. 

Before he could pick it up another came from the rafters, then another, followed by a malevolent chuckle. It took a second, but he finally spotted Clint nestled up in the rafters, a large box balanced precariously next to him. He reached in and brought out another stack of the disks. Cap managed to sprint and duck behind the punching bag before Clint threw the next one. He grabbed it off the floor and flung it back, but while he had the strength, he lacked Clint's aim and familiarity with the plastic disks, so it missed both the archer and his makeshift armory.

"Cap?" Natasha's voice came from the doorway. 

Another shield whirred by his head, bounced off the wall and rebounded back into him. He shot a glare back at Natasha, who was now leaning on the doorframe before throwing it back at Clint, missing again. 

"Don't engage, Cap. It just encourages him." 

Several frisbees shot down in her direction, evidently Clint didn't like her telling his secrets. Natasha dodged them easily and drew a gun from her thigh holster. She fired one shot, knocking the bin of frisbees from its perch and sending hundreds of them scattering around the gym. 

Clint's despondent voice whispered down from the ceiling. "Aw frisbees, no." 

"C'mon Cap, let's go grab a cup of coffee and Clint will have all this cleaned up by the time we get back." Her voice brooked no argument.

Natasha turned on her heel and Cap followed her, confident that by the time they got back the gym would be free of the frisbees. He stooped down to grab one for himself and before he could straighten with it he felt a sharp smack to his ass and the clatter of another disk to the floor. 

When he looked up Natasha was facing him again but only shrugged at Clint's antics.


	5. Thor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time it didn't go as planned.

Thor

Clint walked through the kitchen on his way to the elevator. He was dressed uncharacteristically appropriate for the weather in a hoodie (with sleeves), jeans, converse and a-

"FRIEND HAWKEYE! WHERE DID YOU OBTAIN SUCH A CHARMING REPRODUCTION OF MY HELMET!?"

Clint blinked, tugging absently at the fleece monstrosity on his head. "Ah...Um...etsy, I think?"

"I MUST FIND THIS ETSY AND OBTAIN SUCH A HELM FOR MY LOVELY JANE AND THE TINY BUT FEARSOME DARCY!"

Clint looked unsettled as Thor left the room in a hurry to hunt down the talented Etsy, and more than a little disappointed.


	6. Clint

Clint

Clint had maintained a perfect poker face with all the others, so it wasn't until Thor threw him off guard that they were sure he was messing with them. 

It was harder for them. In an injustice they couldn't fight, Hawkeye did not get nearly as much merchandize as the other members of the team. Even Black Widow had more than him and they were both equally likely to go unmentioned in articles about the team. 

In the end Natasha just told the others that she would handle it and immediately went to call Phil.

When Clint showed up for movie night (late, with the menu music starting to grate on everyone's nerves as usual) he saw Phil had joined them and immediately brightened. 

He rounded the couch, "Hey, boss!," and was about to flop down next to Phil, but Phil was sprawled out on the couch, back to the corner, arms over the arm and back of the couch, legs spread one on the couch and one on the floor. It was the most relaxed Clint had ever seen him, and he's seen him drugged to the gills. But more important than the languid spread of his legs was- 

"What are you wearing?" Clint's voice came out a little higher than normal.

"Pajamas." Phil said, cocking an eyebrow as if to say 'isn't that obvious.'

When he managed to speak, Clint's voice was a little better but pink was creeping into the tips of his ears and his cheeks. "Who's pajamas?" 

Phil gave him an unimpressed look. "Well I'm old enough that I don't need to write my name inside the waistband anymore, but I'm pretty sure they're mine." He deadpanned. He moved his arm a little further back, stretching the black t-shirt tight across his chest and making the large purple chevron sit up a little higher. It also bared a patch of skin just above the low slung pajama pants with their repeating pattern of purple arrows and targets.

There was a pause where Clint couldn't take his eyes of that sliver of taught skin.  
Phil rearranged himself to make room for Clint on the couch. "Are you going to join us for The Wrath of Kahn? We finally get to show Captain Rogers the best Star Trek movie ever." He teased, knowing Clint had very strong opinions on Wrath of Kahn vs The Journey Home. 

"Uhh..." He managed to tear his eyes away long enough to process the question. "I'm actually going to hit the sack. That thing with the weird things and the stuff earlier?" he added vague gestures as if that would make his meaning more clear. Luckily they'd all been there and knew what he was talking about. "It took a lot out of me. Night guys." He waved quickly before high tailing it out of the room.


End file.
